


Rekindling Flames

by NeverBackDown001



Series: Fire and Flame(Ellick) [5]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Happy Ending, Starting Over, finally this is the last one, yayayayya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:40:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverBackDown001/pseuds/NeverBackDown001
Summary: Their choices can either tear each other apart or bring them closer than ever.
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Series: Fire and Flame(Ellick) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170425
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. Homebound

Four days is a long time to be in a hospital. For Ellie, it is. After the second day, she's ready to go back to work. She wants a taste of normal, even if she was doing desk-duty for the next few weeks. She wanted to be back at crime fighting again. 

It would help her forget what had happened. 

Maybe it would erase the pain. 

Ellie knew it wouldn't, but the thought of going back to work, having a taste, a sliver of normal again was all worth it. Seeing McGee across from her, his bright smile, going to fight crime and save lives out in the field. She craved it like a drug. 

Her mom had went home not long ago, Ellie was okay with it, not that it bothered her much. She would be fine on her own. She could recover without any help and no-one was going to condradict her on this very firm statement she made. 

"Glad you visited." Ellie wraps her arms, gently around Tim before he leaves with Morgan and Johnny. She's thankful for all the visits, it makes her feel less lonely in the many hour spent here the past couple of days. 

"Doc says you'll be out later today, you ready for that?" McGee stitched his eyebrows together in such big brotherly concern that it melted Ellie's heart a little with the thoughtul gesture. She loves the little 'get well soon' card with cheesy sayings in the card, and it looks as though it had been swept up in a rather violent storm, tsunami really, of glitter sparkles, glitter glue and messy hand prints with paint. 

Morgan and Johnny would be the best artists. 

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes McGee, I'll be fine." 

McGee raised a heavy brow. "Ellie, you nearly died, you can't just skip off of it like nothing happened." McGee's blue eyes shine as he holds Morgan over his shoulder, she's sleeping peacefully, drool dribbling down her left cheek and her brown curls peeking into her eyes. She's so adorable. 

"Something did happen." Ellie ran a hand along the scars on her wrists that made her look like a depressed teenager(there was nothing wrong about that, but she had the sudden urge to cover them up) and another hand brushing her thigh which is still healing, despite being able to walk fine. "But I wallowed in a coma for a week, I think I should go home, get some normal back in me." 

McGee nodded, half-understanding, Ellie assumed the other half of him wasn't so sure, was hesitant. 

Ellie was a little hesitant too, just a little bit, but she was firm on the fact she wanted to go home. 

She brushed Morgans hair back with a gentle hand, glad she visited, her twin brother passed out on McGee's other arm, his hand in his mouth and, like his twin, drool dribbling down his baby chin. They where the epitome of cute and cuddly. Well, Morgan was a little less cuddly and a little more chaotic. 

"You got your hands full, go home, I'll be fine." She promised McGee. 

He nodded, said his goodbyes and left the room. 

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, wearing a sweatshirt and a lose pair of shorts, Ellie grazed her thumb at the stitches in her thigh. Doctors said the knife was almost an inch from vital veins and the femur. One close to her knee and the other a little further up, seventeen stitches in total, not counting the ones on her right arm. Not mentioning the healing bruises on her face and jawline, and the electrical burns on her chest. 

She doesn't remember all of it, it comes and goes in pieces. Jack says she's blocking it out. 

Ellie would like to think it was all a bad dream. 

A bad dream that came to life and tore her apart, piece by piece until she was nothing left but the scraps. 

Her hand moves to her right arm, where there are four stitches down by the elbow, making a zigzag of where the knife sliced her skin like that of a potato peeler. The doctors said some of the scar tissue would fade, into white marks that she would barely see at one point in her life, but most of them, would be permanent. 

Tattoos that she could never get rid of. 

Ellie knows Gibbs will have someone stationed at her house, to make sure she's okay for the next week or so. Ellie hopes it isn't one of their team members or anyone from the Motorpool, those guys always liked to make the most sexist comments and murder was illegal. She doesn't want anyone in her house, she wants to be alone, to wallow in her pain alone, not without someone else. 

She doesn't have a say and it pisses her off. 

The neckline of the sweatshirt is painfully low, it cuts like a wiggly V downwards and then wraps around the back of her neck tight, she had Gibbs bring her go-bag from work and she hates the fact that she packed this. It's a pretty maroon color, reminding her of OSU, but it shows the bandages on her collarbone and by her upper arms. The bandages are hard packed and tight, but still...she'd rather have a turtleneck than this damned V neck. 

Lucky enough, her shorts cover the stitches. 

She plays on her phone, waiting for someone to come and get her because she doesn't have a car or enough money to call a cab or Uber, She has hopes on who it is, but doesn't call anyone, just waits and waits, which she hates, but has to do. 

Until Nick arrives. 

Her last choice right now. 

Dread fills her faster than anyone could say 'hello' to her. Dread fills her faster than she could run out of there(if she could run, she hadn't tried yet) 

"Sorry I was late, me and Kasie where wrapping up a case." He apologizes, seeing the look painted on Ellie's face, scratching the back of his head, he does that when he's nervous or unsure. Ellie's only seen it a handful of times. 

"It's fine." She murmured, crossing her arms over her chest, one hand going up to the bandage closest to her heart, her fingers running across the smooth, yet rather bumpy surface. She doesn't want anyone to see, but it's not like she has much of a choice, now does she? 

Nick leaned against the doorframe, his brown eyes scanning the room, landing on everything but her it seemed. No wonder. Nothing like taking care of you ex-girlfriend for a week. 

Oh how cruel the world was. 

"Do you...wanna go...pick something to eat up on the way?" He says nervously, a soft edge to his tone, like he's talking to a child. Ellie stands, a little wobbly on the balls of her feet, like she's rollerskating for the first time in over a year. She steadies herself, throwing the go-bag over her shoulder and brushing past him in the too-small doorframe and out of the ward. 

She doesn't want anything to do with him. Sure she loves him, but he does not love her, so there was no point in trying, right? 

How the hell is she going to manage a couple of days with him in her house? Unless he gets called to a case, she'll be stuck with him. 

Ellie can hear him following her as she makes her way to the parking garage, keeping her mouths shut, because she is hungry, but she won't say anything. She finds his Jeep in the sub-section and hops into the passengers seat, setting her go-bag on her lap. Her elbows sit on the bag, leaning into her hands softly. Part of her wants to cry, another part stays silent. 

Nick jumps into the drivers seat and his Jeep rumbles to life, buzzing and groaning beneath her. He turns on some Spanish music that helps drown out her thoughts, she leans on the window and stares at the greening springtime, grass not as yellow and dead, life springing back up. Ellie's always liked spring, it means her birthday, summer is close and the days are longer. 

But now it feels as empty as she does. 

It feels like death on her tongue. 

Ellie hates it as much as she hates herself right now. 

The moment the car stops infront of her apartment building, Ellie gets out, not even waiting for Nick, going right into her building, glad she has a spare set in her go-bag, fishing them out from underneath a pair of boots and leggings. She doesn't look behind her or waits for him, no. If he's going to be the one all hovery over her for the next couple of days, he can eat her dust. 

When she steps inside her apartment, breathing in the familiar(little faint) scent of lemon and pine woods, it relaxes her shoulders, makes her feel a little more secure than it did a moment ago. Everything looks to be in the same place, only a light film of dust over her belongings. She'd been gone for almost a month, so she was surprised there wasn't more. 

Nick comes in behind her, dropping his own bag and slipping off his boots by the front door. It only dampens her mood. 

"You need anything?" He asks when she finally turns to face him, his eyes still not meeting hers. 

"I'm good." She says gruffly, flopping down on her comfortable couch, snagging a blanket from the corner and wrapping it around herself. She searches for the remote in the cushions(touching something rather odd, but she ignores it) flipping to the Disney Channel. She loves watching old favorites. Sure she was in her late teens and early twenties when I-Carly and all of those shows came out, but it doesn't mean she can't watch them with love and memories. 

Nick is in the kitchen, leaning on the countertop, she can feel his eyes on her, she ignores him. She doesn't want to initiate a conversation right now. 

A couple of hours pass and darkness falls quickly, the moon rising in the window behind her flatscreen, its light shining down on her. Nick ordered takeout for the two of them, but she didn;t touch the food, she wasn't hungry, not yet anyways. It was rare for her to skip a meal and she saw the worry on his face when she waved it away. 

"You can take the couch." She gestured to the couch and slipped down the hallway towards her room without a good night or any of those stupid pleasantries. She's tired of being nice to him. 

The day ends so quickly, Ellie has a hard time catching up to it, grateful she took a Melatonin before she slips into a peaceful sleep, where hopefully no nightmares will emerge. 


	2. Where The Darkness Dwells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you know I write all of this during school, and in 1-2 hour incriments. I love doing this.

The second night is when the nightmares come. 

She deceived herself, into thinking that maybe they wouldn't come, a silent prayer, a wish, a hope, that they would stay far, far away and they wouldn't get a hold onto her. Ellie is an idiot. 

Jack says she's blocked out some of what was happening to her. Blocked out because her mind couldn't both physically and mentally handle it at once. Maybe she's right. Maybe she has been blocking things out. When she thinks back on what happened to her, there are chunks, blocks that are dark, fuzzy and she can't reach them. 

Maybe that is a good thing. 

But no matter. they come back in haunting flashes, like one of those old movie reel kind of things, the one her parents had stuffed in their dusty old basement. She remembers flicking it on when she was younger and watching home-movies. 

She remembers the pain, which can't be possible because this is a dream and you can't feel physical pain in dreams or memories? Right? Right? 

It's like she's strapped down in the chair again, the ropes rubbing against her skin, burning her wrists which are bloodied and bruises with trying to escape, she can barely feel her feet. When she wiggles her toes, she sighs in relief, but it's the only relief she got then. The marks on her arms are deeper, blood swimming through her fingers, which where turning grey. 

Ellie cant move, can't breath, can't feel anything. 

Asif tips her chin up towards him, his soulless, endless, infinite black eyes staring into hers. How can he smile? How can he smile, that cruel, ugly, twisted smile? It would never make sense to her, never make any be right. 

He was the kind of guy that stole peoples hearts, right out of their chests, stomps on it with cleats and silver studded combat boots, and then put it back in, not caring to link up all of what was supposed to go on it. 

"You are strong, yet so weak." His voice is that of a snakes, "I cannot wait for you to be another name on a list."

Words defy her as she tries to speak, her throat closing in upon it self, as the knife presses closer and closer to her skin, the blade cold and daunting against her stomach, teasing along the edge of her hips and trailing upwards. She eyes it with caution and fear. Unbridled, uncaged, lose fear that runs rampant in her gut, like bees in her chest instead of butterflies, stinging everywhere they can. 

She wants to scream. 

Someone is going to save her in the knick of time right? Be her hero? Be the savior she's been searching for?

No-one comes to her aid when the knife is plunged into her chest, pain rippling through her like that of a tidal wave, slow and steady at first, but then in rocking, bone rattling waves that drown her. 

No-one saves her this time. 

She wakes with a start, soaked in cold sweat that runs down her forehead and chest, her skin clammy and eyes shooting open. Clenching a handful of cotton sheets in hand, she rocks herself slowly. 

It wasn't real. 

It wasn't real. 

How can it not be real when she never saw Asif Abbas die? 

It wasn't real. 

It wasn't real. 

Then why did it feel so real? Why did it feel like she had been tortured all over again, her skin on fire even though she felt as cold as ice and snow in the middle of a Mid-West Winter. 

It felt so real. 

Yet it wasn't. 

A silent tear tracks its way down her cheek, it burns like acid when it falls, dripping down onto the sheets and sizzling like fire. 

"It's okay, it wasn't real." She tells herself, curling one hand around her long hair, wrapping it around her wrist, and the other still with a fistful of sheets in hand. Ellie tells herself this over and over, until the sun rises, it's bright, brilliant rays peeking into her room. 

Should she get up today and do something productive like she did yesterday? Yesterday she did some paperwork on her laptop(it had made her feel useful) filled out some lab-reports for Kasie. Nick had left for a couple of hours, which made her feel a little more relaxed, he went to the office to get the after-action report done on a couple of cases and had some meeting with the Director. What about, she didn't care. 

Or at least, she pretended not to care. 

She had cooked the two of them food, very few words passing between them, he didn't ask her much, only how she was feeling and if she needed anything. If she replied with a grunt he would back off and not ask for another few hours. He was only doing his job. He didn't want to be here as much as she didn't want him to be. 

Ellie was unsure of what to do. Get up and do something, or wallow in bed all day like a baby. 

She stayed in bed for hours, drifting off into pools of darkness and then waking with a start, like she's afraid that she'll fall back into a loop of nightmares. Staring at the wall blankly, the time passing much quicker than she would have liked it too. What is she going to do? Go and stare at the TV for another twelve hours or pretend to do something that she likes? 

No. 

It all feels wrong. 

A soft knock at her door and Nick comes in, his eyes screwed up in concern(fake) and his mouth in a frown. 

"Hey, you okay? It's noon." He says softly, with concern(fake) in his voice, his eyes trained on her. 

She lifted her head, all of her curls falling around her shoulders and neck, brushing, almost tickling her ears and nape of her neck. 

"Yeah," She replies, keeping the cracks out of her voice. "I'm-I'm fine." 

Nick wasn't buying it. Damnit why couldn't he just leave her alone? She didn't want his comfort, didn't want any of his crap. 

He sat on the edge of her bed, his hands clasped together, like a cats cradle. She curls into herself a little more. Why couldn't he just leave right now, please she wanted to be alone but she knew that wouldn't happen any time soon. 

"I heard crying, but didn't....want to intrude." 

Ellie scoffed. "That worked out well, now didn't it." 

Nick didn't smile, but his eyes did. 

"Ellie, I'm here to make sure you're okay, not to be...you know..the ex." He scratches the back of his head, his voice with soft laughter intertwined. 

She sat up more, brushing the curls away and to the side. "Nick, I've grown past it." Ellie says bitterly. It's a lie that sours her tongue, coats the inside of her mouth like the taste of death. It's a lie that she can't swallow, a lie that hurts her physically. 

Nick doesn't flinch, he just simply...stares at her. It's stupidly unnerving to unnerved by her ex when she's stared into the eyes of numerous terrorists and serial killers. It's almost as bad as the venomous lie in her throat. 

"I'm here, to make sure you're okay." He repeats. "Not because of our past, not because of what happened, but because those where my orders." His voice isn't cold, or hurtful, it's calm, contained and controlled. 

"You could have declined." 

Nick laughs. "To Gibbs? He would have pushed for it more." 

"I'd rather have the sexist pigs from the Moterpool than you." 

Nick still does not flinch, does not say a word. "You'd rather have Aaron? That's cruel." He lets out a low, sarcastic whistle. It's almost enough to make her grin or chuckle, but she holds it down tight, and instead, releases all the other pent up emotions, floating through her nose like a gas. 

"At least he's not..." She can't finish the thought, not yet. 

"Not me." Nick finishes the thought, the sentence. 

She turns away from him. Ellie wants him to leave, he won't. He's just as stubborn as her. He's just like her. 

Ellie see's parts of herself in him, the fierce independence, wild stubborn streak and both smart, just in different ways. She see's parts of herself in him and she knows he sees parts of himself in her. She also sees anger, a fiery soul. There are some differences, which she sometimes picks apart at. 

"When we broke up," She turns around to face him, his eyes locked on hers. "I got so confused. Why you just suddenly stopped caring. Like we suddenly went back to before, like we had never gone out, like we where just friends. It was worse than you being angry and distant." 

When she says the words, it feels like a million pounds have been lifted off her chest. She's wanted to shout those words into his face from day freaking one. 

Nick is silent. For a count of one, two and three. Ellie thinks he may not respond, he'll just sit on the edge of her bed, staring at her, his expression unreadable. He then stands, and walks a step-backwards. 

"Ellie, I won't make up a half-ass excuse and tell you some bull, but I'll tell you this. I will be here for you, but I won't ever be good enough for you." He then closes the door behind him. 

How can he say that? Is that simply his excuse? It's worse than some bull. 

It's worse because it's not true. 

Sinking back into the pillows, hair fanning around her, baby curls tickling the sides of her neck. Her hand goes to her left thigh, touching the edges of her stitches. It's not painful but she touches it, pressing her thumb into the closing wound. Tears spring into her eyes, fresh, slipping down her cheeks. It's painful, like hot wax being poured on her bare skin. 

Yet it still feels better than the abrasions on her heart. 


	3. Worse Than A Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bisexuality is being attracted to both Bishop and Torres.   
> Just saying, ladies & gents & they/theirs.

Nick isn't sure of what he can do with himself. She hates him and she thinks that he just gave up on her. 

That's not entirely true. 

He sleeps on the couch, takes the guest bathroom(which is a bit dusty but he doesn't mind). He cooks and orders takeout. He tries to be nice to her, but she makes it so damn hard for him. 

Why can't she see that he's just doing his job, even if he asked to be the one to do this...though he would never tell her that because she'd be so pissed. When she doesn't come out of her room around noon, on the third day, after second night, he gets worried. Checking up on her goes absouloutly wrong, and he wants to jump off a cliff. 

_I've grown past it._

The words repeat themselves a couple of times over and over in his head until he isn't sure what other thought is there. But today only proved his point. He can love her, but he can't be enough for her. She deserved much more than him. Sure he promised to be there for her, to be her friend, not a co-worker, not the ex, but to be there for her, because what she went though, he doesn't want to know. 

Yet he's curious. 

She won't tell him. Of course she won't. He wouldn't tell her. He would bury it so deep inside his soul that nothing could dig it out without tearing up his whole soul all at once. He would bury it so deep that no kind of light could shine onto it without being consumed. 

All he knows is that she survived and that's all that matters right? That she survived the extreme torture of a terrorist? 

But did her mind survive too? Would she be able to cope with what happened to her? 

Part of Nick wants to ask, but another part lights up in the many possible ways she could kill him with her left hand alone. She had trained with Odette for six months, which had defenitly made her more than a dangerous girl with a gun. 

Sitting at the little bar, he types away on his after-action report for when they where in the Middle East, his mind wandering to the many what it's of the situation, if they hadn't found Ellie in time or the terrorists had done worse, killed her before they even got their money. The what if's are just as haunting and burdening as anything else that went down in Pakistan. 

What if Captain Matthew Kane hadn't called them and decided to do a search on their own? Would they have found Ellie? Or would she be dead? Would he be staring at a marked headstone right now, with tears in his eyes and a tear in his heart? 

The what if's will kill him, slowly, in little ways, nagging at his skin, heart then soul. 

They are probably killing her too. And being stuck in here with him. 

Nick wants to hold her, tell her that he's sorry, spend a lifetime making it up to her because she deserved everything in the world. But he's not good enough for that. 

He hears footsteps pad across the room, craning his neck to the left, he see's Ellie in jeans, a long-sleeve despite the warm weather, boots and her purse slung over her shoulder. Her hair is pulled up in a pony-tail, a colorful elastic on her wrist, covering the bandages with the olive green long sleeve. She's really gorgeous, but he can't say that without getting a glare.

"Where you going?" He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piquing him. 

Ellie crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a firm look, one that has little emotion inside it. "I have to go and pick up some stuff from the store, cleaning supplies." She says shortly, her green eyes on him dangerously, as if she wants him to contradict her, to stop her from going to shop. 

"Ellie, you need to rest, it's only been three days." 

She had seemingly prepared for that line. He should have known, her being a damn analyst, running all of those probabilites and number stuff that he pretends he can understand but gets lost really quickly. 

"I'm fine, I don't need anyone to tell me otherwise." She waved him off. He wasn't finished yet. 

"You need to heal, not be on your feet." 

Ellie puts her hands on her hips, her fists full of olive green fabric, like it's a barrier from hitting him. Thank god for that because she has a nasty right hook and fights scrappy, won't hesitate to pull hair and do whatever she could do to win. Nick assumed that was from growing up with three older brothers in a gritty little farming town in the middle of no-where. 

"How am I going to get better if I don't go and walk, run, stretch? I'm fine." 

The bags under her eyes and the sunken look in them tells Nick otherwise. 

"Ellie, you can't just pretend like nothing happened." (it's his first mistake, he's a slow learner when it comes to women sometimes) "You have to rest." 

Fury explodes like fireworks in a kaldieoscope of green gray eyes, dancing like that of a wildfire, slow yet burning a way through the forest, until everything is gone except the ashes and falling dust. 

"Something did happen. But I'm not sulking around, I have to do something or I'm going to go insane." She snaps, a wolfish, almost crazy look crossing her eyes, her lip curling slightly upwards like a feline and her face going red with anger. 

He puts his hands up in surrender, not wanting to feel her fiery wrath(it's buried deep, she tries to hide it but it's there, an ever-lasting fire that can't really be put put or quelled, just simply delayed. 

"Fine, go." He mutters, turning back to his work, picking up where he had left off. He hears footsteps, the clink of keys and the front door close. Sighing in relief he sits back in the chair and runs a hand through his hair. 

Why does she have to be so damn stubborn? She needs rest, relaxation, not to be on her feet and out shopping? 

Then again, he would be complaining too if he was stuck at home with nothing to do but be in the presence of his ex. Of course, he doesn't mind Ellie, if it was someone like Elena Silva or some crazy chick from college. College had been a wild ride. He would probably be angry too if he had to be told to sit down when everyone else was doing something else. 

He finishes his report, then turns on the news, filtering in calls and updates from Gibbs and McGee, he tells them everything is fine, that Ellie is resting and doing better everyday. Jack promises to stop by and bring takeout this week, McGee wants to bring the twins over again(Nick has a hunch that those two little monsters like Ellie's big TV and fun books). He watches an old talk show that he's seen before and almost has the urge to flick on some good ol' Scooby Doo and watch a good old fashioned mystery, but he chides himself and turns on a college basketball game. 

Nick get's bored easily. Casting glances around the apartment, he remembers the hundreds of times he's been here, for good and bad reasons, golden memories cropping up. Soft kisses and exploring hands. Her apartment is totally her. 

White walls, with a green accent where the TV is mounted, comfortable pillows and soft fuzzy blankets set in the corner, all different colors. Pictures of her family hung up on the wall. One with Ellie and her brothers, the three of them standing behind her at her high school graduation. The only difference there is that Ellie looks carefree, her eyes a little greener and her smile a little wider. Another is of when she's really young, maybe twelve, holding a regional champions softball trophy, the biggest grin on her face, braces showing and a maroon jersey on, stained with sweat and dust. 

So many happy Ellie's mounted on the wall, so many different memories, a couple even from her as an agent, standing with their team at a bar, drunken grins plastered on their face, Nick's arm wrapped around her, beer dribbling down his chin and staining his shirt, but the look on his face doesn't care. The memory is a little fuzzy, but he blames it on the beer, well, that has to be the reason. 

He waits for her to come back, an hour passes slowly, and then another and another, until he starts to get worried. How long does it take to get some cleaning supplies? She might have gone out gotten some food, but based on the past couple of days, it's unlikely. 

Then again when his sister went out shopping, she always took hours, looking at dresses and makeup and all of this girly garbage. That could be a posibility, but Ellie is the type to get in and get out with only a couple of distractions and 'wrong' turns. 

Normally he wouldn't be worried, no, his Ellie Bishop could handle herself and damn well without his help. But when she was in this...state...this mental state, recovering from a traumatic injury, he's not as confident. 

Just as he's about to pick up his phone to call her, she comes bustling through the door, a half smile on her face and hands full of bags. 

"Hey, took you a while." He flashes a smile at her and she sets the bags on the counter. 

"I saw an old friend from the NSA at Walmart, we ended up talking." Ellie shared as she set a gallon of milk in the fridge and a couple of boxes of Cheerios in an upper cabinet. "I got sidetracked and forgot what I needed so i had to go back too." She remarked, a little, just a little warmth in her voice. 

She looks at him oddly as she stuffs some Windex below the sink. "What?" 

He stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and simply shrugs. "You just sound happier, that's all." 

Ellie looks him up and down, like searching for a lie, searching for something that isn't right. But what he said was the truth, she does sound a little bit happier, a little bit better now that she has gotten fresh air and sunshine in her system. 

"Okay, did you eat those brownies in the fridge from the neighbors because I'm almost positive that those aren't normal brownies. I'm also sure she see's ghosts but that's besides the point." 

Nick raises an eyebrow and leans his head around to see the open fridge and platter of plastic covered brownie plates. 

"No I haven't had any of your possibly edible brownies." 

Bishop sighs in heavy relief, like those brownies are for her only. "Well you're acting weird. I gotta go clean my bathroom." Ellie strapped on a pair of yellow plastic gloves with a bottle of cleaner in one hand and paper towels in the other. She squints her eyes at him, like she's trying to see a sign from far away, shrugs and moves on past him to the bathroom down the hall. 

He wants to laugh at the fact Ellie has pot brownies in her fridge. It's sort of funny and he knows a couple of her neighbors, the one across the hall with a 'spiritual' connection with auras and ghosts and all of that creepy stuff that Nick doesn't believe in. And the woman next door who is deeply religious, Catholic to the very bone. 

Nick goes back to the couch, listening to the dulcet hum coming from the bathroom, the squeak of tiles and watching the sun slowly set in the window behind the TV, the sky a bruised purple and burnt orange. He watches the game until it's finished, basketball isn't really his thing, he prefers baseball, but it's break week for his college. Ellie finishes up with the bathroom, and goes to bed at one point, when the sun is long gone from the sky. 

Besides, he feels awkward doing anything else. Maybe if he hadn't screwed up, they wouldn't be like this. But he can't do anymore what if's. It's just too much. 

Nick himself thinks of going to sleep, just sits there, in a half dazed state, the sound of the pinging scoreboard and roaring crowd with it's too bright lights keeping him awake. 

Until the whimper from the room makes him sit up boltright. 

At first he thinks it's the wind that makes the growing leaves on the trees shift and the windows creak. It's sort of like a dogs, but more...more than that. He can tell. And Ellie doesn't have any pets(unless she's hiding one underneath her bed or something, which he wouldn't put it past her). Siting up he casts a glance around the apartment, it's empty and when he glances at his watch, it's just past midnight. 

The shadows dance on the white and green walls, but no more whimpering sounds. 

Sinking back into the pillows he closes his eyes, shifting his hands over his chest so that they curl together, curling his legs up a little so that his knees touch the couch pillows. 

It doesn't last long. 

The sound is louder now, like a dog wanting to go outside, but it's more human, like a muffled cry of help. Nick sits up, looking around until the sound is coming from Ellie's bedroom? 

He swings his feet onto the carpet and walks down the hall quietly, in just an old t-shirt and sweats. He hopes he is wrong about the noise coming from her room because that would mean something wrong is going on, that she's having nightmares or flashbacks or something. 

Creaking her door open, he can see her in the darkness, a little sliver of moonlight peeking through her curtains, making her face glow like that of a sleeping angels, but her facial expressions are not that angelic. Pinched in pain, eyes squeezed shut, curled into a tight ball with the sheets clenched in her hands. 

Oh Ellie. . . 

Part of him is unsure of what to do, torn with turmoil. Should he go and comfort her, wrap his arms around her, steafast, telling her that the world couldn't touch her? Yet the world had already left burning, lingering marks on her skin and mind, some that would never heal. 

Another part of him is afraid that if he does go and comfort her, she'll only get angrier with him, if that was possible at this point. 

He's torn in half with the questions rattling his bones and burning his cells with anxious nerves bundling up like a chilly winters day. It shreds his gut sense, the little voice that is usually right. Like ninety five percent of the time really. 

Another whimper, she curls into a little ball, her hair falling into her face, a half cry spills from her mouth and he knows. He has to do something, he can't ignore this and simply go to bed like it never happened, like he never saw her like this. 

Crawling onto the bed, laying over the sheets, he brushes the soft blonde curls from her eyes, tucking it behind her ears. She's beautiful, her face bathed in silvery moonlight that streams down from the star-littered sky. He takes her hands in his, cold to the touch, like ice and fire, he fits his fingers against hers, like they had done a million times, holding them tight. 

Leaning down he kisses her hairline. "It's going to be okay El." 

He can't be sure if that's going to end up being true or not, but for now he'll have a firm belief it will be true. Nick wraps his other arm around her, nuzzling his face into her neck until her breathing slows back into a rythmic pace. 

Up 

Down 

Up 

Down.

Up 

Down. 

Over and over. Nick can feel her heartbeat through her skin, pulsing gently. 

"It's going to be okay." 

She shifts in the sheets, turning her head over, green eyes blazing like beacons in the middle of the ocean or lighthouses on misty nights. Nick pulls back a little, unsure of what she'll say or do, maybe she'll just shoot him and get it over fast. But she doesn't move, she simply stares at him, her lower lip quivering slightly and edges of her eyes brimming with slick tears. 

"I hope so." She bites the bottom corner of her lip, squeezing her eyelids shut and nestling closer against his chest. 

Nick had to admit, he was damn surprised. 

He kisses her jawline gently and pulls her closer, until their heartbeats starts to pound against their ribcages in sync. Closing his eyes, inhaling that infectious strawberry vanilla scent that clings to her skin, Nick drifts off into a dark sleep, one that he hopes to wake from with her still in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> just a beginning chapter, there will be angst/fluff later.


End file.
